


Second Shift

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:16:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12667125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: The other team’s got a mark on Tatsuya; that much is obvious from before the clock hits 19:59.





	Second Shift

**Author's Note:**

> 11/12 liuhimu!
> 
> cw for spoilers, see end

The other team’s got a mark on Tatsuya; that much is obvious from before the clock hits 19:59. The other team’s jawing at him as they line up at the dot, clearly having heard from somewhere that it’s easy to start shit with Tatsuya if you say the right thing. Straight off the faceoff Tatsuya’s nearly slammed into the boards, caught off guard but a good enough skater to evade most of it. Wei very nearly changes direction to get him back, but Tatsuya shoots him the kind of look Wei barely has time to see but says he’ll take care of this himself. (It would be better to have him on the puck and Wei trying to crush the guy, if points totals are anything to go by, but they’re already in this formation.)

Tatsuya doesn’t get a good enough hit before the line change, and he’s clearly pretending to be chill on the bench next to Wei. Maybe that had fooled some people here for the first month or so, but the largest ice rink in the world wouldn’t be enough to cool him off when he’s like this. He’s toeing the board, working his mouth guard with his tongue in a way that’s not quite so noticeable as some other people’s nervous habits, but when you’re looking at it you can find it. (When you’re used to looking, even when you shouldn’t, a year and a half of glances stolen and not-so-stolen and totally blatant.) Tatsuya catches Wei’s eye and grin, hollowing out his cheeks for a second, and what the fuck. Wei elbows him.

“Can I put you in the box for that?”

“Who’s gonna play on the PK with you, asshole?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going with you.”

Wei snorts. “Set a good example for the kids, Captain. Stay out of the box.”

“Don’t want me around, huh?”

A tap on the back of Wei’s head, the fourth line looking pinned back—it’s them next. Wei does not elbow Tatsuya back. Instead, he waits his turn and hoists himself over the boards. He can practically hear Tatsuya’s smirk heading toward him over the ice like a sweet little saucer pass, but he lets it skip over his stick.

This time, Tatsuya’s not so quick and lucky, though; he ignores whatever it is they’re saying but gets blindsided; Wei’s shouting a warning when their number twelve brings up his elbow and smacks Tatsuya in the chin. Wei wants to look away; he can’t look away and he can’t close his eyes and Tatsuya falls all wrong, like slow motion, and Wei can’t breathe. Someone else is already coming over to Tatsuya; Wei’s headed for number twelve. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t seem even falsely concerned (and it hadn’t been an accident).

“Hey, motherfucker,” says Wei, tossing his gloves and yanking twelve by the back of the jersey. The guy yelps on response and he’s already spitting, trying to land a punch (he’s big but his wingspan’s got nothing on Wei’s; Wei’s trying to figure out what to do with him before the refs pull them apart. In the end, he settles for a punch (and the bad thing about his wingspan is that he can’t punch fast and he can’t land shit as well as someone like Tatsuya, even disregarding how much of a fighter Tatsuya is). And another, and the guy’s calling him every name in every possible permutation of the words and it’s nothing Wei hasn’t heard before and he doesn’t even give a shit because you don’t just go out and elbow your opposition’s captain on the second shift. Because he fucking hurt Tatsuya.

Wei keeps punching even when the refs try to pull him off, tell him it’s time to stop. They hand him a misconduct and shove him off to the dressing room, and—Tatsuya’s in the tunnel, standing and conscious but not looking good at all. He looks like he wants to reach for Wei, and the medical assistant looks glad to have someone supporting Tatsuya’s other side.

Wei sits with him in the dark room that's far enough away from the action to pass for quiet, listening to Tatsuya breathe, feel him try to focus and collect himself. He’s definitely concussed; that he hasn’t puked or passed out yet is probably his stubbornness speaking, once again when it might be better to just let his body do its thing (Wei himself almost always feels better after that, even if the process itself isn’t pleasant and occasionally involves smelling salts). The trainer leaves them, just a shout away but things are private enough.

He’s going to be okay. Wei repeats it in his head, looks down at his fingers and realizes there’s dried blood on them. Once he sees it, he registers that his knuckles ought to be hurting and they are. He’s never been much of a fighter; no one ever wanted to fight him because he was so big and he’d never had any real reason to before now. There were other guys who’d fight; it had never cut so deep. Maybe he’s caught Tatsuya’s eye for an eye sense of justice; maybe that’s not the way he should be blaming Tatsuya.

“Your fault I do this shit,” says Wei.

Tatsuya shifts against him, flattening his palm on Wei’s thigh. “I never told you to. But thank you.”

And, yeah, this is sometimes a sore subject between them, a bruise that keeps blooming on top of itself because they keep shoving themselves into the boards in the same place. The help Tatsuya hates receiving, the notion that every battle is his to fight. He’s too proud; they’re both too stubborn and they end up pressing on it to see what colors it turns.

“I’m sorry,” says Tatsuya.

“Don’t apologize for getting hurt. You couldn’t have seen it coming.”

Tatsuya shrugs, and then almost recoils from the motion, and his breath once again comes slow and measured.

“You did good,” says Wei, and whether or not Tatsuya catches the words or parses them isn’t clear.

But if he needs to hear it again, Wei will tell him.

**Author's Note:**

> concussion/sickness/injury stuff


End file.
